


colours of the heart

by Raijin_ink



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Beach scene...kinda?, Colours, F/M, Love at First Sight, jeankasa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raijin_ink/pseuds/Raijin_ink
Summary: Jean thinks about colours.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	colours of the heart

If there was one thing that Jean Kirschtein always appreciated in his life, it was colour. It painted his world in hues and pigments that always left him breathless, no matter the situation. The green trees in the forests that seemed to tower over everything, unwavering. The blue of the sky that never seemed to end. The grey of the walls he had grown up believing was unbreakable, with it’s sheer scale and grandeur. The yellow of the potatoes his mother would cook for dinner, constantly cooking up something different despite the lack of variety available. The silver blades of his ODM gear that always gave him some sort of comfort in the field. (The red liquid that would seep from a comrade’s wound, staining their clothing, always promising pain, again and again and again).

To him, colours were memories, emotions and art.

When he was younger, he learned to draw with the coal pencils. The ones that would stain his hands into the shade of flowing black only seen during the dead of night. The ones where’d he get a slap upside the head if there were any smudges on his clothes or his bedsheets.

His mother couldn’t afford any of the fancy coloured ones that he constantly begged to get, they were just too damn expensive. Only families with a better off income could afford to put their expenses into something as measly and ordinary as coloured pencils. 

So, Jean appreciated what he had, just like his mother had taught him. Despite not owning any coloured pencils, he sketched everything he saw: flowers that were in the meadows that were located just outside of town. A lone tree, standing still and strong on the hill by his childhood home. The friendly potato vendor that would always give him an extra potato when he’d stop by to pick some spuds up for dinner. To an outsider, the drawings in his sketchbook were merely plain black lines on a white piece of paper, successfully depicting an image but lacking the pigments that would bring it to life. To Jean, these sketches of his were full of colour; not because they physically were, but because between the black plain lines that made up his sketches, he could always envision the colours that would bring his drawings to life.

You just had to look between the lines and look. 

He could almost say the same thing when he thought about his friends, Eren being the first one that came to mind. When Jean first met the guy, he had immediately thought that Eren was weak, stupid and overall, a major pain in the ass. Their constant bickering and yelling after a long tiring day of training didn’t necessarily help his opinions on the boy either. He couldn’t stand the guy. Yet over time he came to know that this weak, stupid, pain in the ass, was someone strong and dependable. Someone that was a lot more intelligent than he had originally thought. And although he was still a pain in the ass in Jean’s eyes, Eren was someone that he could wholeheartedly trust and die for.

The same could be said for his other friends as well. He hadn’t looked beyond the lines and thought them to be people that were under him; similar to the way people had viewed his sketches in the past. He had misjudged them and they had corrected him by enlightening him with their actions and words. Every single one of them had shown their true colours, and in turn he had too. 

Jean would wholeheartedly lay his life down for these people.

Despite all of the time he had spent laughing, crying, living, (killing) with his little group of friends and comrades, there was still one person that hadn’t shown their full self to him yet: Mikasa. He knew she was quite reserved and quiet, never speaking up if need be. She was always listening and always watching. 

And that intrigued Jean. 

He knew that she was beautiful and attractive from the very point he had laid his eyes on her in the barracks at the mere age of 12. His mother would call it something akin to ‘love at first sight’, although that phrase would always make him cringe with just the mere thought of how stereotypical it was. 

But Jean had to be honest with himself, as much as he resented it, it really was love at first sight. He could never get her out of his head, despite his constant efforts at shoving her out of his cranium. She would always be there, constantly ghosting his thoughts like a shadow, never being totally seen unless looked for. 

It made him sick.

She’d always be there, lingering in the confines of his sixteen year old mind, constantly pawing at his consciousness, begging to be let in. And he’d let her. Sometimes when he’d have some time alone, he’d openly let himself think about her. Her lithe and athletic physique, honed and carved to perfection by years of training was something no guy could deny was extremely attractive. Physically, she was something like a fire, beautiful and mesmerizing; something he couldn’t help but be drawn to. But just like a fire, she was scary and dangerous. She could end anyone’s life in god knows how many ways and she had the ability to burn him alive. 

But despite the fact that she was built like an angels’ earthen counterpart, his favourite part was the colour of her hair. It reminded him of the coal pencils that he grew up sketching with. Due to it’s sheer jet black colour, Mikasa’s hair reminded Jean of home and nostalgic days that were spent drawing anything and everything that came to his young mind. 

She was a goddess in human form and well, Jean loved her.

He couldn’t help but learn more about her. He wanted to see what was beyond her black lines. He yearned to know what else made her so beautiful. For years he’d wished to slowly pry away the layers that she had shielded herself with just so he could see the colours that she was painted with. And Jean knew, he knew with utter conviction that whatever he would find would never change the fact that he loved this girl. If anything, it’d make him love her even more. 

He just wanted to know what made Mikasa, Mikasa. 

So as he sat in the salty water that Connie and Sasha had thrown him into without regard to the health of his fucking eyes. Surrounded by a whole new world with so much colour, Jean made a decision: he would finally start looking for the colours that lay between her black lines. 

And he’d be damned if he didn’t start now.

Inhaling, Jean stood up and walked over to where Eren, Armin and Mikasa were talking.

“Hey,” Jean started. “Mikasa.”

Turning to him she gave him a small smile.

“How about all this blue, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo, decided to dump this shit onto paper because it was bouncing around in my head. If any of y'all got feedback or constructive criticism, it'd be much appreciated!


End file.
